Manhattan (Lesbian Story)(GxG) (ON HOLD)

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"This is NYC Survivors HQ speaking. It is 11:21 AM. If you're hearing this, congratulations on still being alive. Today marks the five year anniversary of the massive epidemic. The government has given word that they are now searching for a cure. Please stay positive, and kill every feaster that you can."

I held the walkie-talkie tightly and looked up at the sky as a couple of jets zoomed by. As they zoomed by, they dropped crates that were accompanied by white balloons. They were survival crates. First come, first serve. I have never pursued one. Whenever crates dropped, shots were fired and civilians killed each other over the items. Shots attracted the worst feasters. Most feasters couldn't hear, but the ones that could were the most ferocious and vicious feasters ever. They were faster than the others, and to fight one, you had to have a lot of agility and courage. I've had to take a couple Hearers in my day, all close encounters. Battling feasters wasn't exactly what I would call fun. Some people got off from the adrenaline. Me, myself, I loved to stay in the shadows. Since most feasters couldn't hear, and some were even visually impaired, it was easy to get past them. All you had to do was blend in. Walk slow, look dumb.

Survivor groups were spread all across New York. The Empire State Building was where the Survivors HQ was located. They were basically the rich people who weren't worried about a thing. They lived on the very top floor of a skyscraper. I heard that helicopters came and landed on the building to supply them with supplies. One thing about the Survivors HQ, they kept everyone notified. If you didn't have a walkie-talkie then you were out of the loop. Walkie-talkies were really the only means of communication from a distance. Cell phones didn't work and were absolutely useless. So the Survivors HQ kept the rest of the survivors informed. They told us all of the latest news, and the time, and even gave us pretty shitty tips. I always got a laugh from their tips. They acted like they were running and trying to escape feasters, but they were actually sipping on champagne and telling hilarious stock market stories. It was like a very long camp out for them.

Other than Survivors HQ, there were other groups. The biggest one where I resided, Lower Manhattan, was the Unity Tower. Uniters walked around with black bandanas around their heads or faces. When things went to shit, and the military came with their guns and died, the Uniters ran into the midst of the feasters and got most of their weaponry. They were armed to the tee, but they weren't bad people. They didn't hurt innocent survivors. Even though, there were peaceful groups, there was also malicious ones. Groups that would kill innocent survivors and loot off their bodies. Groups that were cannibals. The most known group to stay away from was the Bloodspill Tribe. Pretty straight forward. They wore red bandanas, and mostly red clothing. Whenever I saw one, I made sure to hide or either sneak up on them and slit their throat with a pocket knife. It was survival of the fittest. Many people traveled in groups, good or bad, but I decided to go solo. Groups slowed you down, and guaranteed for you to be killed.

I heard shots rang out in the air, but they seemed distant. The area I was walking in was relatively safe. There were certain parts in New York City that were vacant of feasters. No one knew why. It seemed like feasters migrated together. If an area had feasters, then it was very populated, but if it didn't, then it was basically a safe zone. The worst thing about safe zones was that most people lived there. Which meant they were hunting grounds for groups like Bloodspill. For that reason, I clung onto the backpack on my back, and quickly walked down the middle of the street. Usually, I spent the night on rooftops of apartment buildings. It was a long climb, but it was worth the safety. The only reason I was in the safe zone, most commonly called, Area B, was because I needed some supplies. There were a couple of traders, but I dealt mostly with an old lady named Margret. She lived on the second floor of one the rundown apartments. The woman was the closest thing I had to family. I wasn't sure where my parents were, because when the whole thing went down, they were at work. I was at school. All the kids were crying and trying to get in touch with their parents. I was only sixteen at the time. Me and my best friends gave each other one last hug, and decided to set out to find our parents alone. I'm not sure what happened to them, or my parents. I've never got back in contact with anyone I knew after the ordeal. I just assumed that they were gone. Either feasters, or truly dead.